The Stars of Wrath
by Nostalgic-Reegar
Summary: This is 'A New Hope' through a different lens, presented as a short story divided into twenty-five episodes. - The Empire's reach extends to the Outer Rim Territories as Tatooine citizens struggle with slavery, poverty, and increased crime rates. Luke Skywalker must act fast to bring order to his planet, or the Death Star will arrive to exact genocide.
1. One

Twin suns baked the arid land and sucked life from its surface. Life shriveled and died here in hours, but for those who knew the ways of survival, few though they were. Luke Skywalker, age twenty, crouched by a moisture vaporator and worked at it with a wrench. Loose clothes let air circulate over his body while hat and goggles shielded from ultraviolet. A water pouch hung from his shoulder by a strap; a quarter on the way, half while there.

Scorch marks and fissures scarred the vaporator surface. A panel was torn aside where the vandal had reached in and ripped at wires. Most sand people hated normal people and lately found new means to express their distaste.

The farmer guzzled water. He evened the dents on the panel with a hammer and then screwed it back in place. Something had to be done about all these cracks through which moisture could escape. He took a tube of sealant, five credits out his pocket at Anchorhead, and practiced patience.

* * *

Anchorhead was a ghost town at first glance, because the sane stayed indoors when they could. Tosche Station rested at the outskirts.

Luke parked his speeder outside the front door and hopped off. Machines stuck in windows turned carbon dioxide to oxygen, filtered out dust, and blew cool air back on Fixer, Camie, and Windy. Camie was sweaty and half naked on Fixer's lap as the man greased an engine part. Windy sat by a fan and surfed holo-porn.

"Better switch that to something else," Fixer said. "Or we'll have to call Wormy over here Stiffy from now on." Windy howled with laughter.

"His eyes are on me, dumbass." Camie blew Luke a kiss.

"Whatever," Luke sat backwards in a chair. "Who's in the mood to snipe sand people tonight? They hit another vaporator."

"Too spooked to go out alone?" Fixer set the part down and swiveled around in his seat to face Luke. "Pay me and I'll start cleaning my rifle."

Luke glared at him. "My farm's the reason why folks can live in Anchorhead and Mos Eisley. You'd be dried corpses if I'd left for the Imperial Academy like I wanted."

Fixer glared right back. "Saying we owe you, Wormy? How about a kick in the rear? We pay what's charged and it's kept your livelihood running."

"My prices are low for you guys, because you're friends. But you owe me your lives."

Camie stood up. "I've got it. Fixer's the Beggar Canyon hotshot. He's the one skyhopper pilot who can cut close to Stone Needle and tell the tale. Y'all suck compared to my baby."

"What about it?" Luke said. Fixer eyed his girlfriend skeptically.

"Race to the finish line. Fixer wins, we get our water free for the rest of the season. Wormy wins, and we pitch in for the rest of the season to guard those vaporators."

"Can I be your co-pilot?" Windy forgot his porn and went to stand by Luke.

Fixer opened and shut his mouth a few times. He would appear yellow in front of the woman if he declined, but his last race had been four years ago. "Fine."

The farmer crossed his arms and weighed the odds. His skyhopper needed repairs which cost credits and he was out of practice at the controls. But the risk-taker inside said this was too sweet a gamble to turn down.


	2. Two

Luke arrived home late that morning to find a pot of tea boiling over. He poured some into a cup while Uncle Owen coughed from the bedroom down the hall.

"How's he been?" Luke handed the tea to Aunt Beru, who sat beside Owen's cot. His uncle lay asleep with a wet towel on his forehead.

"Lung infection keeps getting worse," Beru beckoned her husband to sit up and brought the cup to his mouth. Years of exposure to dust and dirt had taken a toll on the middle-aged man.

Luke searched for platitudes, but came up empty. He spotted an envelope on the night stand and picked it up to read the letter inside. Another local farmer offered a hefty sum for the Lars homestead.

Aunt Beru looked up to see him holding the letter. "Rosworth's itched to buy our land for seasons. Your uncle started to burn those letters five years ago. I thought I'd leave it out for when he feels better."

"We might have to consider," Luke said. "How can I run this place all by myself? We have three workers left, Aunt Beru, besides myself. The sand people are so outta control that men are reluctant to join. There's more business to be had as a smuggler or spice dealer these days, even if moisture farming is Tatooine's real heart."

Water famine threatened citizens, but they were more willing to risk dehydration than a Tusken. Some stowed savings to jump off planet if the worst happened. Rumors spread that nearby planets in the system had high employment rates for miners.

"We've seen worse, Luke. The Tuskens will settle down again. It's went downhill before, but we jumped right back up and carried on."

"Damn right." Uncle Owen's voice sounded like phlegm and gravel. "Land's been in our family since my great grandfather was a little boy. And it'll be around when you're old as me, Luke. Ever think of going to meet with Rosworth and I'll break your nose. You understand me?"

Luke nodded. He decided to wait until his uncle succumbed to the illness before he met Rosworth and talked business. Owen deserved to believe the life for which he had worked so hard would last forever.

* * *

Luke counted thirty plus in attendance at Beggar's Canyon. They listened to music and drank beer before the race, though Luke remained sober. Tank challenged Fixer to a drinking contest and won, leaving the Skyhopper pilot mean. Next came wrestling matches, which Fixer won by a punch to Tank's crotch. A few girls tossed away their tops and riled the men further. A real fight broke out behind Luke while he double-checked his T-16.

Fixer grabbed Luke's tunic and Luke turned to see the other man's face bloodied and cut, eyes glazed. "Ready for our race, Wormy?"

"You're drunker than my uncle used to get on the weekends. We'll do this some other time, Fixer. These races are dangerous when sober, never mind wasted."

"Put your ass in that cockpit." Fixer hollered for co-pilot Tank and stumbled toward his own T-16.

Luke ran through the crowd and found Camie. She and her friends snorted lines of spice from the back of a shirtless man.

"Convince your boyfriend he's too drunk to race. He's gonna get himself killed out there."

Camie blinked at Luke for a few moments, then giggled. "Get out there, Wormy. Kick Fixer's ass and I'll let you take me back to your place."

"Come on," Windy ran up. "I'm right there with ya, man."


	3. Three

Luke needed to reach the canyon mouth and sabotage Fixer's T-16. Windy tagged along, probably believing Luke to have taken Camie at her word. A ring of onlookers surrounded another fight and moved as the fighters neared the edges. Luke pushed into the ring, intent on cutting through quickly, but found that to be a dumb try, as one man punched at his opponent and came close to Luke's head. Luke dodged the punch, but then a fighter shoved him aside and observers screamed at him to get out of the way. Windy held his arm and pulled him from the chaos as beer cans flew at them.

A man accosted him seconds later and pushed a cup to his front. "Soda and rum. Try it." Luke declined. The man sloshed the drunk on Luke's tunic and laughed. Luke wrung his tunic out, cursed, and remembered his goal. There were more disruptions: solicitations for alcohol, spice, and sex, but Luke resisted them all and finally he and Windy came to the start line.

One T-16 had launched and the second did so as they came within a few meters.

The engines blasted light and dust and ruckus right on top of him and he stumbled back to land on his rear. He rubbed spots from his eyes and spit. He shot to his feet and ran at the craft, calling out for its pilot to stop, but it was a futile effort.

"Fixer hot-wired my T-16," Luke kicked a rock. "He's the only one here besides me who knows how. He hijacked my property and handed it to someone else so he could have his stupid race."

Windy groaned. "Maybe I can get some action in a second round. I was really looking forward to testing our skills against a legend."

"Get real," Luke said. "There's going to be a single round, and I'll see to it that Fixer pays in credits or farm service. That's if he survives out there." They stood and waited. The music drowned the dying sounds of engines in the distance. Beggar's Canyon was twenty-five kilometers, which meant these races were done quick. A few minutes passed and Luke became hopeful that his worries were for nothing. The racers would near Stone Needle at any time. Maybe they had cleared it, miraculously enough.

An explosion sounded. A pillar of fire and smoke rose from the horizon. Some partiers turned to stare in shock, some went about their carnality, and a few women, Camie among them, screamed.

Luke ran to his speeder and hopped inside, flipped the ignition and zoomed. He yanked the controls side to side, skirted boulders and rounded corners. He switched on his headlights and sped up as the path straightened. Anger faded, replaced by fear for his friend, regardless how often they were at odds. He glanced to cliff edges, wary of Tuskens wanting target practice.

Firelight exposed carnage ahead. A skyhopper was wedged between Stone Needle and a cliff face, turned into a giant fireball. The second was at the foot of the opposite wall, burning but recognizable. Luke spun the speeder ninety degrees and abused the brakes. He ran to the wreckage and began to wrench open the cockpit. Heat burned his palms, but he fought the agony. Fixer and Tank were inside: the former was unconscious, the latter charred remains.


	4. Four

Fixer had both legs amputated and his right hand lost articulation. Camie announced she was pregnant about the time Fixer sold Tosche Station to Rosworth Industrial. Fixer gave his girlfriend half the credits and kicked her out of their hovel. He told anyone who asked that Beggar's Canyon humbled him enough to realize he would make a dead-beat husband and worse father.

Uncle Owen's health went back and forth. Sometimes he seemed at the cusp of death and then the next morning was out repairing the green house. His temper was shorter than ever. "Did I raise an idiot or farmer? You have three deaths on your hands, Luke. A good mechanic became a useless shell. His woman's pregnant and out there alone. That guilt will follow you everywhere for the rest of your life. Learn a lesson from it. A lesson in the consequences of stupidity, childishness, irresponsibility. Those friends of yours sit around wasting their lives. You can follow them or you can wise up and become someone important."

Nightmares woke the young man often at night as if to pick up the slack when Owen slept. Luke chose to suffer both.  
Their three workers quit and left the planet right before harvest. Owen threw a tantrum when he learned this. Luke ducked outside with dinner while Aunt Beru cleaned glass and cotton from the floor.  
He spent sundowns searching the land with macrobinoculars. Tuskens attacked a farm hundreds of kilometers away and news spread about what they had done to the occupants. Skinned alive and left to cook in the sunlight. Tuskens traditionally strayed from humans, but times were rough. They now killed and raided when they thought they could get away.

* * *

Luke received a visitor one morning after breakfast. Biggs Darklighter stood at the door and grinned to his childhood friend. The two spoke only after a firm handshake and hug.

"My training at the Academy's complete," Biggs explained as they strolled the property. "Thought I'd come by and see how things were before they hand me my first mission."

"Have you heard about the incident at Beggar's Canyon?" Luke wanted to get the tragedy in the open before they proceeded.

"Camie explained everything. Looks like she's done a lot of growing up these past fews weeks," He put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "I could lecture you, but I imagine your uncle has done that in spades. And I might have done worse, Luke. At least you tried to keep them on the straight and narrow, but this is the Anchorhead gang we're talking about."

Luke told Biggs of Uncle Owen's health, the state of the farm, the Tusken rampages, and the slow exodus of Tatooine residents. His friend listened and nodded with an increasingly sour face.

"There's nothing but loss here, buddy," Biggs said. "Why do you think I left at the first opportunity? I'd rather risk my life in war than stay here and dry up. Have you come around? Do you want to turn in that application and get the hell off this speck of dust?"

Luke sighed. "I want to, Biggs, but my responsibilities are here. I belong on Tatooine. For as long as anyone in Mos Eisley or Anchorhead needs our water and vegetables."

Biggs nodded and went silent for a while, staring at barren landscape.

"I've been out there," He said at last, voice lower. "To the other planets in this solar system. There are mining jobs, but they're dangerous. The mortality rate is ridiculous. Those people who race off to find greener pastures are really condemning themselves to slow deaths. Stay on Tatooine, stay in the system, barely matters. The real cause is further out. The Rebellion."

He motioned for Luke to follow him, then leaned closer when they were well outside of Owen or Beru's earshot. "The Imperial Senate moved to legalize slavery. That ancient trade is back in the galaxy's center." Luke shook his head to deny the possibility, but Biggs continued. "I'm hopping ship soon to join the Rebellion. It's time to fight and, if need be, die for what I believe in. Forget farming, Luke. The Empire has denied everyone their freedom. You can save more lives by turning in that application as soon as possible. Use it as a buffer to get off the planet, then copy me."


End file.
